


Portions for Foxes

by theparthenon



Category: Better Call Saul (TV), Breaking Bad
Genre: Español | Spanish, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-06-16
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:48:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,564
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24166129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theparthenon/pseuds/theparthenon
Summary: Eloisa Samuels has always believed in family first. After her father's arrest and subsequent death leave them hurting in more ways than one, it is up to her to hold everything together. As she uncovers the dark underworld of the cartel, money, and drugs that he was involved in, she's going to have to prove how far she's willing to go to protect the ones that she loves. Begins toward the end of season 1.On hiatus.
Relationships: Ignacio "Nacho" Varga/Original Character(s), Ignacio "Nacho" Varga/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 19
Kudos: 29





	1. One

Eloisa Samuels hummed the last couple bars of Avril Lavigne’s “Sk8r Boi” as the song ended, and her six-year-old niece collapsed on the carpet.

“Again!” she shouted. “Again!”

“Girlfriend, we’ve played this song like ten times,” Eloisa said, knowing she would cave and hit the back button as many times as required. “I’m pretty sure this a form of torture illegal in at least twelve states and all of Europe.”

“Agaaaaaaain!” the tiny voice demanded right as her phone started to ring.

“Saved by-” She looked at her phone and groaned. “Hey, Starr,” she said, forcing herself to sound cheerful as she answered.

“Hey, girl, what are you up to?”

Hazel got up and began twirling around again, mumbling the lyrics under her breath. “I’ve got the monster until Angela picks her up which should be,” she glanced at her watch, “In the next fifteen minutes or so.”

“Meaning you’re free?”

She threw her head back, staring at the popcorn ceiling and trying to come up with any excuse to say she was busy. Nothing came. “Yes.”

Starr squealed so loudly that Eloisa, horrified, had to hold the phone away from her ear. “Let’s go out tonight.”

She groaned. “Starr…”

“And, before you say no, you should know that Aubs and I were talking and we both agreed that you’ve been kinda depressed, which duh, since the break-up and everything else that’s been going on-”

Her stomach twisted. Everything else was Starr’s very nice way of saying the utter shit show that her family had been going through. Flashes of things came to her: her dad in the back of a squad car, her mom crying, a suit and tie, a ring in a hand.

“Hey!” a second voice cut in, bringing Eloisa back into the present. “We agreed you’d keep me out of it.”

“Et Tu, Brute?” she asked dryly. The fact that they were both on the line was unsurprising. Three-way phone calls between them were so normal that it was weirder when it was only two of them.

“I know, I know,” said Aubrey. “But we miss you. And I don’t think it would kill you to do something other than holing up with a bottle of wine and reading romance novels for one night. You can’t hide forever, El.”

She wanted to protest, to defend herself. But, how could she? She had been doing exactly that on her nights off because it was the only way, in her limited free time, that she could turn off her brain. There was also a part of her that truly felt she did not deserve a night of fun. Not when her family had bills to pay and not when the other thing was hanging over her head. But she didn’t want to think about the other thing right now. Hazel tugged on her pant leg, a welcome reprieve from her thoughts. “Tia Lou, can I have peanut butter crackers?”

Eloisa covered the mouthpiece. “One package. And you’d better eat them fast because your Mom will be here soon and we’ll both be in trouble if she knows I gave you a snack this close to bedtime.” Hazel, high on rule flouting, ran into the kitchen at full speed. She sighed. “Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not promising I’ll have a good time.”

Starr whooped in delight. “Atta girl,” Aubrey praised. “Be ready in an hour.”

“Good for you,” said Angela when she finally arrived (only five minutes late, a new record) to pick up her daughter.

They watched together as Hazel went around to halfheartedly collect her things. Unused to silence from her normally chatty sister, Eloisa tugged her ponytail. “Everything okay?”

Angela produced an envelope and held it out. “Mom got a bill from the hospital for Abuela. She said you’d take care of it, and I know you start your fancy new job on Monday, but Lou…” She sniffled, close to tears. “I just… I feel like we’re putting so much on you.”

Angela looked so much like their mom, both curvy with straight shiny, dark hair and dark eyes and so different from Eloisa with her slim runner’s build, hair that refused to be straight or curly, and their dad’s green eyes. An image from earlier, one of her mom crying, returned and Eloisa took the envelope. She pulled her sister in for a hug. “It’s fine, Ang. Really.” She released her and offered a big smile though her stomach churned at the lie. “You think I can’t handle one tonta bill?”

“Yeah.” Angela swiped under her eyes. “Yeah, I know. What are you wearing tonight?”

When she could not give an adequate answer, Angela took pity upon her older sister and stayed to help put together an acceptable outfit. Together they decided on a cream-colored silk cami tank and denim shorts (“you’ve got those runner’s legs; you might as well show them off “) paired with her leather jacket and a pair of black high-top Converse knockoffs that she could not be talked out of because they were “just going to end up at Anodyne.”

“Try to have fun,” Angela instructed.

When they were gone, Eloisa opened the bill. A red _Past Due_ stamp right at the top. How long had her mom been holding onto this one? She scanned to the bottom: _owe the amount of $3,500._ A horn honked outside. She blinked, trying to clear her eyes so as not to ruin her makeup and tossed the paper on the kitchen table.

“Took you long enough!” Starr exclaimed as Eloisa climbed in the backseat. She flipped her the bird, but Starr ignored it, turning around in the seat with a critical eye. “I wish you’d let me do your hair. I still think you’d look killer as a blonde.”

“You look amazing,” Aubrey said, turning around to grin at her. Unlike Starr and Eloisa, who had both been born in Albuquerque, Aubrey and her natural blonde hair had been imported from the Midwest. “Like damn, girl, where have you been hiding those legs?”

Starr rolled her eyes and added a begrudging, “You do look really good.”

“Wow, thanks,” Eloisa replied in a flat voice, though she was smiling. “Where are we heading?”

There was a brief exchange of glances in the front.

“Anodyne,” said Aubrey as she started the car.

Eloisa threw her hands up, pretending to be annoyed. “¿En serio? You know I get enough of that place when I’m working there, right?”

“It’s the best place to meet guys,” Starr insisted.

“It’s the best place to meet _a_ guy,” she corrected. “That dude from Tampico is going to be there, isn’t he?”

In the rearview mirror, she winked. “Maybe.”

Starr worked across the street from Tampico Furniture and had been eyeing the owner’s son for weeks. She had even dragged Eloisa along where she’d stood around while Starr flirted and enquired about loveseats. Apparently, it had paid off because now she was staging a run-in.

“And can we really pass up the opportunity for a round or two of free drinks?” Aubrey asked, touching on the most important factor.

“That is an abuse of the system. I have rights!” Eloisa protested. Though she was putting up a fight, she didn’t mind. Anodyne was familiar, comforting in its own weird way. She momentarily allowed herself to be glad that she had let her friends drag her out.

Somehow, they managed to find parking downtown that wasn’t too far away from Central’s blocked off sections. The bouncer waved them in, not bothering to check their IDs. As soon as they were up the stairs, Starr squealed, clutching Eloisa. “There he is!”

It was a true testament to Starr’s prowess that she could spot him so easily in the dim lighting amongst the hipster crowd. Sure enough, the poor sap was drinking a beer at one of the corner pool tables.

“Come on,” Aubrey said, looping Starr’s arm with her own and steering her toward the empty table next to it.

“I’ll get drinks!” Eloisa called, heading to the bar. She was unsurprised to see a familiar face behind it. “Hey, Ben,” she greeted, resting her elbows on the dark countertop.

“You have a night off and you choose to spend it at work?” He shook his head. “That’s sick, El.”

She clicked her tongue. “Blame your girlfriend. She dragged us here for the free drinks.”

He glanced behind her and shook his head as a second person sauntered up to the counter. “And for the free dudes, apparently. Starr’s on the prowl again, huh?”

“She can’t be tamed,” Eloisa confirmed. “Black Velvet, Peach Crush, and-”

“A vodka cranberry. Predictable, all of you.” Chuckling to himself, he turned away to fill the order.

She drummed her fingers on the counter and glanced down the bar. The guy had his back against the half-wall, arms crossed in front of his chest as he surveyed the room. He was exactly the type she would have gone for in college: tall, dark with a shaved head, permanent five o’clock shadow, big arms. Even the scar on his brow and the earring in one ear weren’t a deterrent. His eye fell on her and she squinted, pretending to study the bottles behind the counter and like her neck wasn’t getting warm from being caught staring like a complete creep.

“What do you think?” Ben asked, gesturing discreetly toward the man as he plunked two glasses down in front of her.

It was a game they often played; guess the drink before taking the order. Usually, the winner got the tip. She took a sip of her Black Velvet, considering as she stole another quick look. He was wearing a button-up with the sleeves rolled up, nice boots that might have been snakeskin, gold watch, and at least two gold chains. “Jack and Coke,” she guessed when he brought the third. “Final answer.”

Ben whistled under his breath. “She’s confident. Okay. I’m gonna say… Sunrise, no, wait- Long Island.” Eloisa tipped her glass at him as he moved down to take the order.

A few seconds later, Ben looked over at her and loudly called, “You win!”

She stared, mortified, into her drink.

“So… what do you win?” the man asked when they were alone.

“Nothing. Sorry about that,” she said. “It’s just a game we play sometimes.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You come here a lot?”

“Sort of. I work here. Not, like, right now. Obviously.” She sighed at her own awkwardness as Ben set the drink down and flashed ten fingers. The guy reached for his wallet, but Eloisa waved a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it.”

Ben said nothing but as he moved on to another customer, she could see that he was smiling to himself.

He raised the glass. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

His dark eyes flitted over her, assessing her the way she had done to him only moments ago. He moved closer and copied her posture, their elbows almost touching. “Okay. Tell me about this game.”

“Oh, it’s dumb. All I did was guess your drink.”

“Yeah?” He smiled, a half-smile that paired nicely with the skeptical look he was giving her. “How?”

She took another drink, trying to hide a smile of her own. “You sure you’re ready for some deep truth about yourself?”

“Try me.”

“You asked for it…” She set the glass down and faced him, squaring her shoulders like what she was about to say was important. “Your boots and your watch cost money so you like expensive. But you’re here and you’ve got that earring so clearly your taste isn’t _that_ refined,” she teased. “You like ordering whiskey because it makes you feel swanky, but you think it tastes like crap so you get the Jack and Coke because you can barely tell it’s there.”

“Damn,” he said softly, both eyebrows raised. “That’s impressive. Are you a detective or something?”

“Nope.” She shook her head, the corners of her mouth twitching. She tried to say thank you but could keep up the ruse no more and burst into laughter. “I’m sorry. That was so much bs. It was just a really lucky guess.”

“Wow!” He hung his head, shoulders shaking with silent laughter.

“For the record,” she insisted, hoping she hadn’t gone too far. “I like your earring.” She reached over to extend a hand. “Eloisa.”

When he looked up at her, he was smiling again, a genuine one this time that made her return the gesture. “Ignacio.” He shook it. “So, _Eloisa_ , you always hang out here on your nights off?” She liked the melodic way that her name rolled off of his tongue.

“No, but my friends like it here and free drinks so.” She shrugged. “What about you?”

“It’s the best place to shoot pool in Albuquerque.”

She snorted. “More like the only place to shoot pool in Albuquerque.” From the corner of her eye, she saw Aubrey waving an arm and signaling for her to hurry up. Eloisa held up a finger to indicate she would be there in a second. She sighed and grabbed one of the other drinks off of the counter, tucking it safely in the crook of her elbow. “I should probably take these.”

He nodded at the last glass. “I’ve got it.”

She was on the verge of telling him no, it was okay. But something about the way he was leaning in toward her, or maybe it was the playful gleam in his eye, made her agree. “Are you here alone?” she asked as she led him toward her friends.

“Nah, I’m-”

“Hey, Nacho!” a boisterous, deep voice greeted. It did not match the doe-eyed man standing with his arm around Starr. “This is-”

“Starr and Aubrey,” Eloisa finished. She looked up at Ignacio and smiled, wrinkling her nose at him. “Guess I’m not getting rid of you that easy, huh, _Nacho_?”

He smirked back. “Doesn’t look like it.”


	2. Two

Eloisa let out a whoop of delight as the 8-ball sank into the corner pocket. She high-fived Aubrey and they did a victory dance, swishing their hips back and forth as they made a half-circles with their arms. Smirking, she went back to the table where their drinks were sitting and drained hers.

Nacho stood next to her; their bodies close as he leaned down to whisper in her ear, “That was bullshit.”

She turned so that their faces almost touched. “Sorry, is the sound of me winning too loud for you?”

“You’re pretty cocky for someone who won by a lucky shot.”

“Lucky?” she scoffed. “That was all _skill_ , baby.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think we were playing the same game.”

She bumped her shoulder against his. “Sounds like someone’s a sore loser…”

“We’ll see who’s the sore loser. You want another one?” he asked, reaching one arm around her back to grab his drink. It brushed against her shirt, making the soft fabric stick to her warm body and sending a jolt of electricity through her.

She was about to say yes, she did want another one when Starr exclaimed, “Let’s do shots!”

“Ugh,” Aubrey groaned. Eloisa knew she was thinking about the last time that Starr had tricked them into taking shots. It had ended with the three of them fighting over the toilet in Starr’s apartment bathroom the next morning. “Anything but vodka.”

“Party pooper,” Starr pouted.

“Tequila?” Domingo suggested. When this was met with no resistance, he slapped Nacho on the back. “And this guy’s paying.” Immediately the ladies began to protest but Domingo waved it away. “Ah, he’s good for it, trust me.”

“You really don’t have to,” Eloisa said.

“Five shots of tequila?” He shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. You still want that drink?”

“Okay,” she agreed, entertained by his humblebrag.

When they were gone, Aubrey and Starr rounded on her.

“So,” Starr began excitedly. “What’s going on there?”

Eloisa inspected her fingernails, voice breezy. “What do you mean?”

“What she means is that you can cut the tension in here with a knife.” Aubrey nudged her. “I swear to god he looks at you like he wants to take you on the table and- ow!” She rubbed her shin, glaring at Eloisa who had kicked it.

But she had a point. Eloisa consumed romance novels the same way a gourmand eats in their favorite restaurant, lovingly and to the point of excess. And tonight, it felt like she was in one. Nacho wasn’t suave, not in a lothario or machismo way of typical romance characters. He was kind of surly and sarcastic, and she liked that she didn’t have to pretend to be bubbly or sweet. He didn’t seem to mind that she, too, was surly and sarcastic. It didn’t hurt that every time he touched her, she felt like she was going to explode either.

“Fine, okay. He’s hot. Is that what you want me to say?”

“That’s a start,” Aubrey said, patting her head.

She smiled, unable to remember the last time she had smiled so much or been so relaxed. “And we’re not talking about the handsy twins because…?”

“Because this is actually exciting.” Aubrey leaned against her pool stick. “Starr getting laid is like the sun setting, it’s always gonna happen. For you, on the other hand, getting laid is like… like a total solar eclipse. It rarely happens,” she explained when they both stared at her blankly.

“Eee!” Starr, unoffended, squeezed Eloisa’s arm. “Time for Miss Goody-Two-Shoes to let her hair down.”

“Who’s a goody-two-shoes?” Domingo asked, handing Aubrey a shot glass while wrapping an arm around Starr. He nuzzled the side of her face with his nose. “Cause it’s definitely not you.”

Eloisa took both her drink and one of the shots from Nacho. “That would be me.”

“Yeah, but she had to be cuz her dad was a cop,” Starr interjected.

Eloisa winced, but no one else seemed to notice except Aubrey who kicked Starr’s foot. Domingo offered his condolences since his own dad was a hardass but at least he wasn’t a narc.

“I can see it. Bet you got straight-A’s in school and you were…” Nacho studied her. “A cheerleader. I’m kidding,” he added when she made a face at him.

“Nope,” she retorted, popping the p extra hard and taking a drink. “Track team.”

"Running for fun?” He shook his head. “Estas loca.”

She shrugged. “It got me a scholarship to UNM.”

“To new friends!” an impatient Starr exclaimed as she thrust her glass outward. Everyone clinked them together.

As the rest of them threw back their glasses, Nacho lifted his to Eloisa. “Salud.” She returned the sentiment and they, too, drank. Ben had really given them VIP treatment by adding salt to the rims. She shuddered, mouth puckering from the briny aftertaste.

“I’m a wuss when it comes to shots,” she admitted.

“It’s cute,” Nacho said. “But you got something right…” He reached out and ran a thumb across her bottom lip before brushing salt from the corner of her mouth. “There.”

She swallowed hard, warmth pooling in her stomach that had very little to do with alcohol. He leaned in, like he might have been about to say something, or maybe kiss her. Cologne, cedarwood and ginger, expensive smelling, filled her nose and made her close her eyes as she tried to inhale more of it, of him.

Then his phone rang.

He sighed and pulled it out of his pocket, glancing at the screen. “Sorry,” he apologized then called, “Hey,” to Domingo and held up the phone. “I’ll be back.”

Eloisa was glad for the interruption, heart thumping wildly in her chest. She watched him walk down the stairs.

“How turned on are you right now?” Aubrey whispered in her ear.

“Díos, get out of here,” she replied, pushing her away. She took a long drink and sighed, too agitated to just stand there while they waited. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Luckily there was no line. She splashed cool water on her cheeks and stared at herself in the mirror.

“You got this,” she told her reflection as she ran a finger under her eyes to ensure there was no smudged makeup left behind. “He’s just a dude.”

She had just stepped out, the door barely swinging closed behind her, when a hand grabbed her arm and pulled her back toward a dark corner.

“What the hell?” She jerked her arm out of the person’s grip and made to glare at them, but her eyes widened instead. “Nate?”

“Sorry,” Nathan Osborn apologized. “I didn’t think you were working tonight.” He winced as he said it, like it hurt him to admit that he still knew her schedule.

“I’m not.”

He wanted to ask more, but he could tell that she was buzzed, and if she was there with somebody else, he didn’t want to know. “I was gonna call you tomorrow.” He lowered his voice. “I just talked to my guy and he said he’d meet with you.”

“That’s- seriously? That’s great!” The urge to hug him was overwhelming so she crossed her arms in front of her chest. “Thank you.”

“No problem. But… I don’t wanna bullshit you, El. Carl owed these people a lot of money.” He would know given that he had been her dad’s partner. How he’d managed to avoid getting caught up too heavily in the shitstorm, had even kept his job as an Albuquerque police officer, still remained a mystery to Eloisa. “He wants some money upfront.”

Her stomach clenched. Even dead, her father could not stop fucking them over. “How much?”

He looked away, so puppy-like with his floppy blonde hair and big blue eyes. “Ten grand.”

“Ten grand? Upfront?” she repeated. “To _talk_?” He nodded and bile rose in her throat. She was already going to have to dip into her savings in order to scrape together the money for her grandmother’s hospital bill.

“Yeah.”

She took a deep breath. Depending on how much time she had perhaps it wouldn’t be completely impossible. “Okay. When does he want to meet?”

“Sunday.”

Eloisa’s solid façade faltered. “I’m supposed to get ten thousand dollars together in _two days_? That’s insane, Nate.” And basically impossible. Maybe if she’d had two weeks. “Can’t you ask for more time?”

He shook his head with a low, humorless chuckle. “Yeah, sure. I’ll call him and be all, ‘hey, man, sorry, can we move it to a day that works better for us?’ He’d laugh and tell me to get fucked.”

“I start my new job Monday. I need more time. Even an extra week would be better.”

“I hear you, but what do you want me to do?”

“Nothing.” She turned away, chewing the inside of her bottom lip. And there it was: the thing that had been hanging over her like a black cloud come to catch her lest she enjoy any time in the sun. “Never mind. I’ll figure it out.”

“El,” he said, reaching out to touch her arm.

“Hey, man,” a voice cut in. “We got a table-”

She stepped away from him, tucking her hair behind her ear. The man gave a short cough that almost covered his laughter. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to intrude.”

“It’s cool. One sec.” He left and Nate looked down at her. “Are you sure?”

“Yeah.” She nodded in the direction of his group. “You should go.”

“Sunday,” he reminded her. “Be ready at eight.”

She waved to acknowledge she’d heard him before taking off toward her friends.

“There you are,” Aubrey said, leaning against her pool stick. They watched as Starr lined up her shot then giggled as Domingo corrected her by sidling behind her and placing his arms around her. It was like watching a romantic comedy unfold in real-time. “This had to be what it was like watching Mozart compose. She’s a fucking genius.” She snorted but couldn’t argue. Starr was very good at getting what she wanted. Aubrey threw an arm around her shoulder and pulled her in close. Eloisa rested her head. “You’re about to call it a night on me, I can tell.”

The night seemed sapped of all its color, drained to a dull gray. She just wanted to be home, curled up in bed to wallow in peace. “Are you mad?”

Aubrey shook her head. “Nah. Should I tell Miss Thing I’m taking you home?”

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll get a cab or something.” She extracted herself and looked around, trying to hide her disappointment. “He’s still not back?”

A smirk formed on her friend’s lips. “Who?”

Eloisa rolled her eyes, too upset to want to play coy anymore. “Don’t be like that. I just wanted to say thanks for the drinks. If you see him, pass the message on?”

“Sure. Should I pass him your number too?”

“Shut up,” she mumbled, face turning pink as she slipped on her jacket.

“Pfft. Okay. I saw the way you were staring at his arms. I bet he’d be down to throw you around a little bit-”

“Oh my god.” She clapped a hand over her friend’s mouth. “Stop talking.”

Aubrey gave her a tight hug. Eloisa, still blushing, called out goodbye to Starr and Domingo as she left.

When she reached the street, she was greeted by warm night air and the typical commotion of a Friday on Central: muffled music, loud voices, and the occasional police siren. She moved a few feet away from the entrance and felt her jacket pockets until she discovered the battered pack of cigarettes that she kept on hand for nights out.

 _Ten thousand dollars._ Where in the hell was she going to get that kind of money? She found a lighter, put the cigarette between her lips, and tried lighting it with a shaky hand. But the lighter only sparked. Again, nothing. A third time, nothing. She made a strangled noise, tears stinging her eyes, and was about to chuck the damn thing when a flame appeared in front of her face. She looked up to see Nacho. He plucked the cigarette from her lips, placing it between his own.

“Everything okay?” he asked as he inhaled, the burning crackle of the tip audible.

“Fine.” He passed it back and she took a long drag. “Thanks.”

“Sure.” He tucked the lighter in his back pocket and looked out over the street. “They’re still up there?”

“Yeah.”

They stood in companionable silence, passing the cigarette back and forth.

“But I think I’m gonna head out.” She threw the butt down, crushing it under the heel of her shoe. She dug in her jacket pocket and produced her phone.

“What are you doing?” he asked as she flipped it open.

“Calling a friend.” She had been about to text Nate because she didn’t want to spend money on the fare and because she knew he would drive her.

He placed his hand over hers, closing it again. "Like your boyfriend?"

"No," she replied. His thumb stroked her wrist. Just once, but it was enough to send that dangerous electricity right down her spine.

“I can take you.”

“Won’t your buddy miss you?”

He looked up at the lights in the window then back at her. “I doubt it.”

For the second time that night, she was on the verge of saying no because she was freaking out about the money and she didn’t have time for any of this, no matter how badly she wanted it. But there was something there, a spark or chemistry or whatever and he was still touching her and, goddamn it, Aubrey had been right about his arms.

“Yeah,” she said in a bold voice, looking up at him through mascara darkened lashes. “Alright.”

Nacho led her down the street to the lot where his car was parked. She gave a low whistle, her hand hovering over the bright white and cherry red paint as she walked around to the passenger door. Her dad would have _loved_ this car. The thought was like a punch to the gut. Then his hand grazed her hip as he reached for the handle, snapping her out of it.

It wasn’t far to her house, but neither of them said much, content to let the music play as the tension mounted between them. He parked the car, she unbuckled, and they sat there, unsure who should drop the pretense by making the first move.

“How about a drink?” she asked.


	3. Three

Eloisa was only slightly embarrassed by the state of the house when they stepped inside.

“You have kids?” Nacho asked, looking at the toys that hadn’t quite made it back into the office that doubled as Hazel’s playroom.

“No. God, no. My niece is here a couple of times a week. I had her tonight hence the mess. Which… sorry about that.” She gestured vaguely to the living room but had a feeling they wouldn’t be spending much time there anyway.

He waved her apology away. “Don’t worry about it.”

Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket, startling her. She pulled it out and glanced at the message.

_From Aubs: Thx 4 telling us u left w the hottie_

_Shit_ , she thought. Even if she hadn’t let Nacho take her home, she should have messaged them that she had made it okay. She flipped it open and typed a response.

_To Aubs: Srry. Am home safe. Talk 2mrrw._

_From Aubs: Use protection! Luv u!_

“Do you?” she asked, throwing her phone on the little table by the door and turning her attention back on him.

“Have kids?” He shook his head as he glanced around, taking it all in. “This is a nice place. Rental?”

She felt a swell of pride in how well she had done making the home her own on a tight budget and hours spent scouring thrift stores. “No, my abuela owns it, but…” She paused, wondering how much information was too much to share in this situation.

“But?” he prompted.

“She needed a lot of help, so I moved in with her for a while. Then it got to be too much for even me so now she’s in a home.” It was the condensed version of what a process dealing with her grandmother’s Parkinson’s was, especially after the dementia had started. She shook her head. “But she’s happy there. The routine helps her. And she’s got a lot of amigos especiales,” she said, waggling her eyebrows suggestively.

He laughed, turning on the stereo. “Your Abuela's a player. I like it.” He pressed play and the sounds of Avril Lavigne assaulted their ears. He laughed harder and her face turned pink. “What is this?”

“Did I mention I have a niece? A six-year-old niece who loves this crap. Move.” She bumped him out of the way with her hip and nodded toward the kitchen. “I’ll be there in a sec.” She flipped through a case of CDs and decided on a mix that Aubrey had made for her. Satisfied as a Built to Spill song began to play, she bobbed her head in time with the funky beat and joined him in the kitchen.

Nacho was standing at the kitchen table looking down at the papers scattered on it. A harmless thing to do, but her stomach lurched as she remembered carelessly throwing the hospital bill on it. She cleared her throat and he glanced up, holding a fake award that Hazel had drawn for her earlier.

“You make the best pancakes, huh?” he asked.

Eloisa breathed a sigh of relief as he set it back down. “If you’re lucky, you might find out.” She flipped on the light switch and opened the fridge to look for the stray beers she knew were shoved in the back. Leftovers from when she’d been with Nate. “So, what do you do?”

“What do you mean?”

She extracted two Blue Moons and began rummaging around in one of the drawers for a bottle opener. “Like for work? Taking late night calls, the nice car…” _The bling, the expensive boots, paying for the table and everyone’s drinks,_ she thought. At heart, she was still a cop’s daughter and those things tended to add up to married man going through a mid-life crisis or criminal. Not wanting to sound like she was implying what she had been thinking, she kept her voice light and teasing. “You must have a fancy job or, you know, a really lucrative side business.” She turned around to wink at him.

He chuckled. “My dad owns an upholstery shop. His English isn’t great, so I help out with customers and orders. That kind of thing.”

“Really?” She handed him an open bottle. “That’s sweet, actually. I always thought it would be cool to be part of a family business. Having built something yourself and being able to pass it down? It’s… I dunno. Lasting, I guess?”

“You two would get along. It’s a good business now. He puts a lot into it, but it’s not what I want.” He took a long pull from the bottle and made a face. “This tastes like soap. You like this?”

“Wow. I know you didn’t just knock my free beer,” she scoffed and took a big drink to prove her point. He watched, waiting for her to swallow which she did with a grimace. “You win. It does taste like soap.” They both laughed. “Okay,” she said as she began to pick at a corner of the label. The damp paper easily gave way under the pressure of her nail. “Then what would you do? If you could do anything?”

He stared at her thoughtfully as she rolled the paper under her thumb. It made her wonder if anyone had ever asked him that before. “Anything?”

She held up her hands. “It’s your fantasy.”

“Buy a little cabin on a lake.” He hooked a finger around one of her belt loops, drawing her forward until their noses touched as he looked down at her. In the living room, whatever song had been playing ended, and “Heart-Shaped Box” by Nirvana started. “Somewhere with mountains. Settle down. Learn to fish or carve wood. Some handy shit like that.”

“You like to work with your hands, huh? Are you any good with them?” she inquired, feigning innocence.

“If you’re lucky,” he said, mimicking her words but making them low and seductive. “You might find out.”

Nacho kissed her, slowly at first, and then with an intensity that she had known was lurking beneath the surface. She melted against him and wrapped her arms around his neck. He pulled away and she had to blink her eyes open.

“So, what would _you_ do?” he asked, posing the question back to her. One hand slid to her lower back, pulling her body closer.

“If I could do anything?”

“It’s your fantasy.” His voice was husky in her ear as he planted his lips on the soft skin beneath it.

Eloisa ran her nose up along his cheek, feeling the tickle of his stubble as she nipped the bottom of his earlobe. “I’d find out what you can do with your hands.”

He sat down, pulling her onto his lap so that she was straddling him on the chair. He ran his hands up her sides, under her shirt, and she shivered at the skin to skin contact. She sat up straight and lifted her arms so he could slip the shirt over her head, deliberately gyrating her hips against his in a rhythmic back and forth motion. A low groan escaped his mouth.

Their lips met again as Eloisa began fumbling with the buttons on his shirt. He gently pushed them away so he could finish the task, allowing her to push it off of him when he reached the last one. “Do you-” she began. She inhaled sharply as he began kissing along her collarbone, working his way to her shoulder. “Do you want to take this upstairs?”

He slid his hands down her shorts until they touched the soft skin of her thighs before he slipped them under her bottom. She wrapped her legs around his middle so that he could lift her. He stumbled as he got out of the chair, pressing her back against the wall.

They barely made it to her bed where he showed her exactly what he could do with his hands.

~

The next morning Eloisa stretched out; the sheets cool against her warm body as the sun crept in through gauzy peach curtains. A thick arm wrapped around her middle and rolled her over.

“¿Que hora es?” mumbled Nacho, eyes still closed.

She lifted her head and squinted at the alarm clock behind him. “Six.”

“AM? Why are you up?”

She lightly kissed the tip of his nose. “I’m always up this early.”

He groaned. “We’ll have to fix that.”

“Good luck,” she teased but was content to lay there. That was probably the deepest she’d slept in months. Her eyes drifted down from his face to his chest where she saw a scar, the whitish gleam in contrast with the rest of his skin. “What happened here?” she asked, touching it with her fingertips.

He finally opened his eyes, glancing down at it then back to her with a shrug. “It’s a long story.” Under the fluffy apricot comforter, one hand roamed until it found her knee, the one that had its own ugly scar. “What about you?”

“Knee blow out, sophomore year of college.” It had also been the end of her scholarship and of her track career. Her parents had both been upset, but her dad had taken it personally.

That was driven out of her mind, however, as Nacho’s hands slid up her leg and into more pleasurable places.

When they finished, he fell asleep again. Eloisa quietly slipped out of bed and changed into her running gear, noting that her wallet was poking out of the back pocket of last night’s shorts. It was probably stupid to leave a more or less complete stranger in her house, but if he found something worth stealing, she would have been impressed. She strapped on her knee brace and took off into the cool morning.

The neighborhood was quiet, which was one of the reasons she ran so early. Toward late morning, Nob Hill would be crawling with yuppies, college kids, and older couples out trying to score brunch or deals from the boutiques and other eccentric shops on Central.

She cruised down Girard, falling into a rhythm as the birds began chirping.

While last night had been a very welcome distraction from her problems, they were still there and that ten thousand dollars wasn’t going to find itself. As she ran, she went through her options.

  1. _A loan_



If there was a reputable place in Albuquerque that would have given her one, she would have tried it. But between student loans, the loan they had taken out to get her abuela into the assisted living facility, and the alarming amount of credit card debt she was in, it was highly unlikely that she would be able to take out much let alone ten grand.

  1. _Asking friends_



She would have rather died than admit she needed that kind of help. Aubrey and Starr didn’t even know how bad her family was hurting and even if she could bring herself to do it, neither of them had that much money.

  1. _Gambling_



The thought was laughable. Almost as laughable as

  1. _Win the lottery_



And then there was

  1. _Come clean_



Eloisa could tell Nate that she simply didn’t have the money. Her sneakers hit the pavement harder as she tried to imagine the outcome of this scenario. Probably a shakedown of her entire family, and that was best case. Had they not suffered enough because of what her father had put them through?

She focused on her breathing, putting one foot in front of the other like somehow, she could outrun this if she tried hard enough.

There was one other option, but even thinking about it made her feel like shit.

  1. _Her brother’s college fund._



Each of the Samuels kids had been gifted one, a five-thousand-dollar sum that was supposed to help cover anything school-related. When her mom had put her on the accounts, she included Daniel’s college fund. He had graduated in May, but he was headed for the local community college. Provided she played it smart, she could withdraw it and replace it before anyone was the wiser.

Her pacing was off, breathing not syncing. She stopped and put her head between her legs as she tried to steady herself.

“Fuck!” she shouted at the empty street.

When she arrived home again, the house was silent. She slipped off her shoes, threw the knee brace in the corner of the living room and started the coffee pot. As she did, a phone rang upstairs. Not hers, which she could see where she’d left it by the door. For a moment, she debated whether listening was rude or not. But Nacho wasn’t her boyfriend and she was nosy, so she tiptoed upstairs, stopping halfway.

“Nacho.” Pause. “Puedo estar allí en… ¿cuarenta minutos?”

Eloisa’s eyebrows furrowed. Forty minutes wasn’t a lot of time depending on where he had to go.

“Dile que se reláje hasta que llegue. Si, traeré la camioneta.”

The word van struck a chord, but she didn’t have time to dwell on it because there was a loud snapping sound followed by a sigh. Eloisa, heart pounding at her own audacity, snuck back to the front door and slammed it shut. What the hell had that been about?

“I’m back!” she called.

Minutes later a mostly clothed Nacho joined her in the kitchen. She handed him a cup of coffee which he studied before taking a sip of the scalding liquid.

“I hate to do this, but I gotta take off.” He grabbed his shirt off of the chair by the kitchen table and threw it on. “Maybe next time you can-” He stopped mid-buttoning, eyebrows furrowing as he touched the piece of paper on the table. “Tia Lou?” he asked, pointing at the award.

“Yeah,” she replied over her shoulder as she poured a second cup. She turned around, leaning her back against the counter. “It’s a family nickname.”

“Cute,” he said. They regarded each other for a moment, a tight smile forming on his face. “I left my phone in your room. I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared back up the stairs and she glanced at the paper to see her name written in peach crayon, almost invisible even in the daylight.

“Sorry you can’t stay for breakfast,” she said as he came back down.

“Another time.”

They went through the motions of saying goodbye and he gave her a perfunctory kiss on the cheek as she walked him out.

 _What the fuck just happened?_ she asked herself as she closed and locked the door. Why had he gotten so weird when things had been fine before she’d left for her run? He hadn’t even asked for her number, she realized with a pang of disappointment.

She stared at the mug that he had used then dumped it into the sink, letting the ceramic clatter against the metal. She grabbed her own cup and headed upstairs, ready for a shower, when she caught sight of her shorts on the floor. Her wallet sat a few inches away from them. Weird considering it had been in the back pocket before she’d left.

On a whim, she flipped it open, but nothing was missing. The only thing that had been touched was her ID which hadn’t been slid all the way back into its slot. She eased it out of the pocket it was in and stared at the unsmiling reflection of _Samuels, Eloisa M._ from last year.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so begins the Spanish portions (which should hopefully be pretty infrequent since my Spanish is passable at best and I rely on the Googs), but ends the last of the frequent updates for at least a week. I hope everyone's enjoying!
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> Puedo estar allí en… ¿cuarenta minutos? - I can be there in... forty minutes?
> 
> Dile que se reláje hasta que llegue. Si, traeré la camioneta. - Tell him to relax until I get there. Yes, I'll bring the van.


	4. Four

Eloisa closed the budget planner with a satisfying thump and pushed it away.

Numbers, she reflected, were certainly less confusing than people. She had spent quite some time on the phone with Aubrey and Starr where they had briefly assessed Friday night’s events. Admittedly, she had zoned out for most of it, but both assured her that Nacho’s behavior was fairly normal protocol for one-night stands. Eloisa wasn’t entirely convinced that was the case. They weren’t there so they couldn’t understand how tense it had been in those last few minutes.

But she had bigger problems to deal with.

The finances were squared away for another month. Just barely, but they would be okay. Even with the unexpected hospital bill, she had managed to make it work with enough left over to cover about three of the ten thousand (most of it she had taken on herself, draining her own small savings) without raising suspicion. She had taken the five from Daniel’s account, but even that still left her two thousand short.

“¿Todo listo?” Graciela asked, stroking her hair as she passed. She leaned into it, closing her eyes against the familiar motion.

“Sí,” she replied.

“Gracias, Mija.”

“No problema. Pero, Mama,” she turned in the chair to look up at her. Not for the first time taken aback by how much older her mom seemed these days. “You have to give me Abuela’s bills as soon as they come in, okay? We can’t afford to default.”

Graciela’s shoulders slumped. “I know. I just hoped that the insurance company had made a mistake.”

She wanted to tell her that unless they contested it, which would cost them more than it was worth, it was doubtful that would ever be the case. Instead, she said, “Dinner smells good.”

“You’re a good girl, Eloisa.” There was a twinge of guilt as her mom pressed a kiss against the top of her head. “It’s almost ready. Go get your brother.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Is his stupid friend eating with us too?”

This was her Sunday ritual. She would come over, spend the day helping her mom around the house, sit down to the books, and then have dinner with her family. This Sunday, Hazel was with her dad and Angela was using the downtime to cram an extra study session on campus which Daniel had used to his advantage.

“Se bueno,” she cautioned. “Daniel está en la edad del pavo. He’s having a tough time right now.”

“Aren’t we all?” she murmured but did not argue as she headed in the direction of her brother’s room. From inside, his stereo blared angry metal music over the faint sound of video games. “Hey, Stupid, dinner’s ready.”

There was not an immediate response. Then she heard shuffling and a low, “ow,” came from under the door. “Put it out,” a voice, her brother’s, whispered.

Suspicious, she pushed open the door. The smell of marijuana hit her immediately. Two guilty faces, one dark, and one ultra-white peered at her from by the window.

“S’up, Lou?” Jesse Pinkman greeted, scratching the back of his head.

Jesse had always run adjacent to Daniel and his friends, usually only popping up if there was a group thing. She didn’t like that they were hanging out exclusively these days. Her brother didn’t need any more bad influences.

Daniel, who had been half-out of the window, pushed himself back inside. “Try knocking next time. Jesus. It’s called invasion of privacy.”

“What are you idiots doing in here? Are you trying to give Mom a heart attack?”

“You smoke cigarettes,” he retorted, chin jutting out. “It’s a little pot. Don’t be such a bitch about it.”

Normally, she would have tried to be cool, especially in front of his friend. But before she really had time to think about it, she crossed the room and pinched the back of his arm. He yelped, rubbing it frantically.

“Consejos vendo y para mí no tengo,” she chastised, repeating one of Graciela’s favorite idioms. “Besides, cigarettes aren’t illegal. Where’s the rest of it?”

Daniel’s face scrunched in confusion. “The rest of what?”

She pinched the bridge of her nose. “The rest of your brain, for starters. Where’s the rest of the pot?”

“It’s not mine!” he squeaked.

“Like I give a shit. Hand it over.” Jesse, eager to not be ratted on, handed over a small bag with a single pre-rolled joint sitting in the bottom. “Change your clothes, put eye drops in, and act normal at the table. They’re in the bathroom,” she instructed Jesse. “Across the hall.”

He took off like a shot leaving Daniel and Eloisa alone.

“What the hell has gotten into you, Daniel? Do you do this when Hazel home?”

“It’s a little weed,” he repeated slowly like she was stupid. “And I never smoke when Hazel or Ang are home. You think I want Ang narcing to Mom?”

“You’re lucky _I_ don’t narc to Mom. Is this what you’ve been doing instead of looking for a summer job?”

“Jesse doesn’t have a summer job.”

She threw her arms up. “I don’t give a shit if Jesse doesn’t have a summer job. You think college is just going to hand you books for free or what?”

“That’s what my college money is for.”

She tried to ignore the gnawing feeling in her gut and put her hands on her hips. “You know what that’s going to cover? You pay everything out of pocket, maybe two or three semesters, if you’re lucky. And, in case you didn’t know, money isn’t exactly growing on trees in our backyard right now.”

“God, get off my case! Just because dad isn’t here doesn’t mean you have to act like him. And get the hell out of my room.” He pushed past her and went into the bathroom slamming the door behind him.

She stormed out after him, stopping just short of the kitchen. If her mom saw her this heated, she would ask questions and, though she was righteously pissed at Daniel, she didn’t want him to get in trouble with Graciela. She clenched her fists at her sides and imagined herself running. One foot, then the next, breathing a steady one, one, two count.

Dinner went off without much of a hitch except for the awkward silence sitting between Daniel and Eloisa.

“Mrs. S, these peppers are THE BOMB!” exclaimed Jesse between mouthfuls. “And I ain't even, like, a vegetarian.” At least now she knew why her mom let him stay.

Graciela beamed. She loved a compliment. “Thank you, sweetheart. Rajas poblanos. It’s my mother’s recipe.”

“Got a little brown on your nose, dude,” Daniel said, elbowing his friend and voicing Eloisa’s thoughts. “Just ‘cause you’re used to eating white people food like… meatloaf.”

“Yo, aren’t you like… half white?” he whispered, looking between Graciela and Eloisa like he might get in trouble for saying it out loud.

“Yeah so I missed out on all the gross shit like liking meatloaf and mayonnaise.”

Eloisa snickered into her plate. She couldn’t help it. The whole conversation was so absurd.

“Daniel, watch your mouth,” Graciela scolded.

His ears reddened. “Sorry, Ma.”

“Don’t call me ‘ma’. It makes me feel old.”

“You don’t look a day over thirty, Mrs. S,” said Jesse.

Daniel and Eloisa exchanged a flat look across the table, but he gave her a small smile as his eyes rolled toward the ceiling.

~

“Are you okay, Mija?” Graciela asked as they stood in the doorway after dinner. “You seem tired.”

The heat from earlier in the day had died down leaving a warm, clear June evening. She smiled but felt the words in her bones. She was exhausted.

“I am a little tired,” she admitted. “But I’m alright. I promise.”

Graciela gripped her daughter tightly and drew her in close, pressing a Tupperware container full of leftovers in her hands. “I don’t know what we would do without you.”

Eloisa’s throat became tight, her eyes stinging. As she gave her mom a tight squeeze, her phone vibrated in her back pocket. She kissed her cheek. “I’ll see you on Tuesday when I drop off Hazel, yeah?”

As soon as she was in her car, the front door of the house shut, she pulled it out to check it.

_From Nate O: be there n 30_

She checked the time on her phone. It was only 7:15. Of course he would show up early. She made it home with ten minutes to spare and ducked inside fast enough to stow the leftovers and swap the joint in her pocket for the yellow envelope full of money in her bedside drawer. When he pulled up, she was sitting on the porch with her face buried in a Lisa Kleypas novel as she smoked a cigarette.

Though she could clearly see him, he honked the horn.

“You got it?” he asked as she climbed into the passenger seat.

“Yes.”

She hated lying, even to Nate, but the less he knew, the better for him. He talked the whole way leaving her to her thoughts so long as she punctuated the conversation with an occasional yeah or wow.

Eventually they pulled off at a stretch of land not quite outside of the city limits. The temperature had dropped, making Eloisa shiver a little as she got out. Nate leaned back against the grill of his truck, whistling a jaunty tune that set her teeth on edge. She shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and sighed in relief when they touched the pack of cigarettes. She shook one out and was about to put it in her mouth when he snatched it away from her.

“Really?” He held it out of her reach when she moved for it. “This could be evidence, El.”

“Really?” she mimicked, sweeping her hand over the nothingness of the desert.

“Yeah.” He handed it back to her. “And, anyway, you shouldn’t smoke.”

“You are unbelievable, you know that?” she shot back but put it away.

After a maddening five minutes, a van pulled in. The headlights were momentarily blinding as it parked just a few feet across from them and the engine cut.

She knew it well. It was what had gotten her swept up in this mess in the first place. She had only laid eyes on it once, just before her dad had been arrested. She was there to take him to dinner and had seen it tearing out of the driveway as she had pulled up. Her dad, red-faced and visibly shaken, had been standing on the porch, watching it go. When she tried to ask him about it, he had yelled at her to drop it.

After his arrest, her mom had mentioned seeing it a couple of times before they moved, different times during the day and never for very long. And then again, more recently. It was enough to send Eloisa in to take the information to the detectives, insisting that it was tied to somehow to her dad’s case. They assured her that they would look into it, but she knew when she was being humored. Then Nate had caught her on her way out of the station to tell her, warn her, really, that she needed to let it go.

She wished she had listened.

Beside her, Nate pushed himself up and puffed his chest out importantly.

“Jesus, Nate, come on,” she mumbled as she bit the side of her thumbnail.

As the engine died and the lights dimmed, she caught the glare he directed at her. “Do not be cute with these guys,” he warned.

It was unnecessary. She knew she would be lucky if she could get through this meeting sounding coherent at all. The envelope sat heavy in her back pocket. She hoped that it along with an explanation and a promise that she could get more would be enough.

“Stay here for a sec.” She nodded and he jogged up to where three men were getting out of the van. “Hey, Nacho,” he greeted.

She froze. It was a coincidence. Surely there was more than one person in Albuquerque with that moniker. Then the driver emerged and as he did Eloisa’s stomach bottomed out.

Nacho’s dark eyes took in the scene in front of him, regarding Nate for a brief second before they landed on her.

“Shit,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EEK. And there it is.
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> ¿Todo listo? - All done?
> 
> Se bueno. Daniel está en la edad del pavo. - Be nice. Daniel's at an awkward age. (Basically)
> 
> Consejos vendo y para mí no tengo. - Do as I say, not as I do.


	5. Five

If God were real, Eloisa thought, he had a terrible fucking sense of humor.

“You’re Lou,” Nacho said flatly. Not a question. She nodded. Maybe this would be okay. Maybe the fact that they knew each other, however briefly, to her advantage. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, eyes narrowing as they settled on Nate. “Is this a setup or something?”

Nate’s white face went whiter. “No, man. It’s not like that. Why-” He took a step back, trying to act as a shield between the two of them. Nacho raised an eyebrow. Eloisa side-stepped Nate, giving his arm a quick squeeze to assure him that she would be okay.

“Créeme, estoy tan sorprendida como tú,” she cut him off quickly, remembering Nate’s Spanish was limited to the few curse words he’d picked on the street.

“No, no creo que lo estes. ¿El lo sabe?”

She shook her head. “No.”

If their exchange sounded strange to his cronies, they didn’t let it show. He sighed. “Where’s the money?”

She reached back for it then hesitated. “If I give you this, you stop sniffing around my Mom’s place. I handle everything moving forward.”

“Ella es de carácter duro, aye?” one of the guys cracked. They both chuckled.

Nacho snorted, amused in a condescending way. “You know you’re not really in a position to be making demands, right?”

She produced the envelope, holding it out to him like it was a cross to that would ward him off. “Whatever it is you’re looking for; you’re not going to find it there.”

He yanked it out of her hand, and she shifted her weight from foot to foot while she watched him count.

“I asked for ten.” He looked up, fixing his eyes on her like she was the only person there; a quality that would have enchanted her two nights ago, but now made her want to run back to Nate’s truck and drive until she was out of the state. “This is eight. You’re short.”

“Fuck, Lou,” Nate breathed and closed his eyes tightly, unable to believe how much of a mess this had become in so short a time.

“I know,” Eloisa said. “It’s- it’s all I could get.” It sounded lame to her own ears. Her determined resolve was crumbling and fast. “If I’d had a couple more days-”

He cut her off. “No deal.”

“What- come on, we can’t work out some kind of payment system or something?”

“Do I look like a bank teller?” He nodded in the direction of the truck. “Vete a tu casa, niña.”

She gritted her teeth. The humiliation she could deal with. But she had not come all this way to be sent packing with her tail between her legs and nothing to show for it. As he made to retreat back to his van, she said, “No.”

Nacho stopped, shoulders tensing under his jacket. “Excuse me?”

“Eloisa, shut up, shut up, shut up,” Nate chanted under his breath.

“No,” she repeated, unsure if she was talking to Nate or Nacho. Desperation clung to her like a second skin, making her bold and stupid so that this time her voice was stronger and louder as she stood up straight.

He turned and stepped toward her, anger radiating off him in waves. “This isn’t a game, Princesa. You think _this_ is a lot of money?” he asked. His hand holding the envelope twitched like he was about to hit her with it. She braced herself, but he only waved it in her face. “This is nothing. This isn’t even a _fraction_ of the shit your old man lost when they took him in.”

She knew that APD had found drugs in a storage facility that her dad had been renting under the name of his girlfriend; salacious tidbits that the press had run rampant with and news to his family. One without the other would have been bad enough but finding out both at the same time had destroyed her mom.

“How-” she swallowed down her fear. “How much?”

“Five million.”

The scene before her tilted as though the world had tumbled on its side. She found a spot in the dirt and tried to regulate her breathing. Five million. Her dad had been holding on to five million dollars’ worth of drugs for these people. Ten thousand was like a drop in the ocean. Even if they sold both houses and all their cars, it wouldn’t be enough to pay it back.

“There has to be _something_ I can do,” she said weakly.

A long silence followed this as he considered her.

“I might have a job for you.” She looked up at him, praying that her face did not betray her hopefulness. “But you pull something like this-” he waved the envelope a final time- “Again, we’ll find other ways to get what we’re owed. You got that, _Lou_?”

“Yeah,” she managed to say. “I got it.”

“Good. Sé dónde encontrarte.” To anyone else, it would have been a throwaway statement, meant to intimidate her, but Eloisa saw it for what it was: a warning. He glanced back at his guys. “We’re done here.”

Nate cleared his throat and for a second time, Nacho turned around, jaw clenched. He took his own envelope out of his pocket and threw it on the ground at Nate’s feet. Nate gave a small wave of thanks and they watched as the van cleared out. Neither he nor Eloisa said a word until they were back in the truck.

“What the actual fuck, Eloisa?” Nate exploded. “You were short?! You said you had it!”

“Don’t you even start with me, right now, Nate,” she shouted back as she frantically tried to stave off full-blown hysterics. “Did you know!? Did you know how much he was holding for them?”

This humbled him. “No.” She made a noise like an angry cat. “No, I swear, I had no idea. Carl said he was taking on some extra work for these guys to make a little more money to help with your grandma’s bills.” He ran a hand through his hair. “I didn’t ask, and he didn’t tell me anything else.”

“Extra work.” She turned away to look out the window as he started the truck. “Right.”

Her mind reeled as a million questions went speeding through it. What had her dad been doing with all of those drugs? Where had his money really been going? Because it sure as hell hadn’t been to them. Nor had it gone to his girlfriend, who had boldly attended both the small funeral and the reading of her father’s will.

They hadn’t wanted her there, but the lawyer insisted they try to play nice, probably so he didn’t have to deal with her alone. She remembered how the woman, a dancer named Katrina who was barely older than Angela, had dramatically thrown her chair back after finding out that she had been mentioned only to say that her apartment had been paid up through the year.

_“I gave him the best six months of his life! And that’s all I get?”_

_It was the breaking point for Eloisa. She had tried to be civil all day while also putting on a brave face for everyone and she couldn’t do it anymore. She grabbed Katrina by the arm and dragged her out into the hallway. Nate, who had been waiting for the Samuels family, sprung to his feet._

_“You better get out of here right now,” Eloisa demanded, her voice even for how much rage was building in her chest. “Or else.”_

_“You think you scare me?” she sneered. “Do you know the people that I know? You have no idea what Carl-”_

_Later she would understand that it had been the mention of her father’s name that had made her snap._

_But at that moment, Katrina didn’t get to finish her thought because Eloisa shoved her. Hard. She stumbled backward, teetering on her high heels before falling squarely on her behind._

_For a moment, no one moved. Then Katrina gave a shriek of rage, clambering to her feet and ready to fight. She grabbed a fistful of Eloisa’s hair and pulled her forward. One arm trying to dislodge the hand in her hair, Eloisa swung wildly with the other as she attempted to land a blow._

_“Whoa! Hey! Enough!” Nate shouted, finally snapping out of his stupor. “Enough!” He wrestled them apart, pushing Katrina back lightly and restraining Eloisa._

_“Don’t touch me, Nate,” Katrina hissed before spitting on the ground at their feet. “You can all go to hell.”_

_“Are you okay, El?” he asked as he watched her walk away. “What happened?”_

_But she didn’t hear him, just stared blankly up at his face. “How did she know your name?”_

Later that night, after everyone else had gone to bed, Nate told her what he knew about her dad’s activities, how they had accepted bribes to turn a blind eye to what was happening in their patrol area, and his own part in them. In return, Eloisa returned the beautiful ring he’d given her the fall before and told him to get the fuck out of her mom’s house.

“El? Did you hear me?” Nate asked, the nervousness in his voice bringing her back to the present.

“What? No.”

“I asked why you didn’t tell me you were short. Why didn’t you ask me to help cover you?”

Because she had barely thought of him at all. Because she would rather have gone empty-handed to a meeting with drug dealers than begging to him for money. Because it would have killed her to be in debt to him. “I just didn’t. How well do you know these guys?”

“Not very. We used to meet with this other guy. Chango. They’ve all got these weird nicknames. There’s one guy, No-Doze…” He snorted as though that were the most absurd part of this situation. “Anyway,” Nate cleared his throat when she didn’t even crack a smile. “I don’t know what happened to him, but a couple of weeks before- before Carl got popped, we started meeting with Nacho. He seems okay, though.”

Her head was full of him, Nacho: at the bar, teasing her, his hands on her. She shook her head, trying to clear him out. She bit at the skin around her thumb, wishing desperately for a cigarette.

“What happened? Why would they swap?” she asked, trying to focus on Nate as her stomach churned violently.

“Probably because of the drugs, but I didn’t know that at the time. I had no idea-”

“Pull over!” she exclaimed suddenly.

“Huh?”

“Pull over _right now._ ”

Terrified, Nate came to a hard stop, the tires kicking up a mini dust storm. Eloisa scrambled out and made it a few feet before she fell to her knees and began dry heaving. From behind her, she could hear the tinny sounds of Toby Keith twanging away about his love for America from Nate’s crappy radio. She would hear that same song years later and remember the taste of dirt in her mouth and the feeling of the hard earth under her hands. When she was finished, she sat back on the ground and stared up at the vast expanse of inky sky and the thousands of stars that littered it.

She wasn’t sure how long she sat like that before he placed a hand on her shoulder. She hadn’t heard him approaching and the touch made her jump.

“I could have helped,” he said quietly.

Part of her wanted to lash out, to utterly destroy him, but the fight went out of her when she looked at his face.

“No,” she replied firmly. “You couldn’t have.”

He sighed, gave her shoulder a final squeeze before turning to walk back to the truck. “We should go.”

The rest of the ride back was silent, and it was a relief when Nate parked in front of the house.

“Do you want me to come in with you?”

“No, thanks. I’ll be okay.” Her voice sounded robotic and distant, as untethered from the situation as she was beginning to feel. Somehow, she had inwardly aged ten years on the ride home.

She slammed the door and stood on the sidewalk, staring up the little yellow two-story with its white-painted porch, covered in knotted wisteria. It had always been a welcome sight, a beacon even amongst the eccentricity of the other houses around it, and a safe place.

But now it loomed over her, the idea of being alone inside of it terrifying. _Sé dónde encontrarte,_ Nacho had said, threatened really, and he did. Because she had brought him there. For a second she entertained the idea of going home with Nate. At least then she wouldn’t have to be alone.

But Eloisa forced herself up the steps to the porch, let herself in, and watched from the window as Nate’s truck took off into the darkness. Only then did she collapse on the couch, sobs escaping her in harsh, heaving gasps. She held onto her knees, pressing her forehead against the soft, worn denim of her jeans. Eventually, they tapered off, reduced to sniffles. Her phone buzzed in her jacket pocket and for one, horrible moment she thought it would be Nacho.

_From Nate O: Im home. If u change ur mind just call ok?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**  
>    
> Créeme, estoy tan sorprendida como tú. - Believe me, I'm just as surprised as you are.
> 
> No, no creo que lo estes. ¿El lo sabe? - No, I don't think so. Does he know?
> 
> Ella es de carácter duro, aye? - She's tough-tempered, aye?
> 
> Vete a tu casa, niña. - Go home, little girl.
> 
> Sé dónde encontrarte. - I know where to find you.


	6. Six

“And that’s basically it when it comes to the ordering process,” concluded the geeky young man in front of her.

Eloisa plastered a smile on her face, the same vapid one she had been giving him all morning. “Great, thanks, Lyle.”

He beamed. “No problem. Now, if you just want to follow me this way, I’ll show you the fryers and we can go through the…”

She followed him, zombie-like, from the registers into the kitchen area and tried to pay attention as he pointed out various things. She stifled a yawn, nodding absentmindedly at his long-winded and overeager explanations.

It had all started with the sheets.

In a fury, she had stripped her bed and thrown everything in the washer before moving on to the dishes. In between, she had sat on the back-porch and chain-smoked. When she had finally cleaned to the point of exhaustion, she had taken the hottest shower she could handle, scouring her body until her skin was red and raw, before falling into a restless sleep on the couch. She woke up at 4 am and stared at the ceiling until her alarm upstairs went off an hour later.

She had been early as she pulled into the Los Pollos Hermanos parking lot where only one other car sat in the sherbet haze of the morning. It belonged to the owner, Gustavo Fring, who had been impressed to see her there. In his office, he gave her a brief history of the business before they spoke at length about his expectations of her. She asked a few questions before he’d apologized, he had a meeting to attend and left her with assurances that she would be in good hands with Lyle.

They finished their tour of the kitchens bringing them back to the employee break room. She was glad that it was painted and decorated in neutral tones, the only place other than the shared office she was supposed to work in and Mr. Fring’s office that wasn’t splattered in the bright yellows, reds, and blues the company was known for.

“So,” Lyle said, popping a DVD into the player beneath the boxy TV. “What did you do before you worked here?”

“I was a staff accountant over at the Garduños corporate office.”

“Wow!” he exclaimed. He sat down next to her and plucked the remote off of the circular table. “Why did you make the move? If you don’t mind me asking.”

She did, but she was too tired to think of a nice way to say so. “I just needed a change of scenery, you know?” It was more or less true without having to mention all the gossip and rumors that followed her through every shift toward the end of her time there. Angela had found the job for her and it had been freeing when she had put in her two weeks.

He nodded. “Yeah, I totally get that. So, these are the training videos. I know it seems excessive since you’ll just be doing accounting- sorry, not that you’ll _just_ doing accounting, but, uhm…”

“It’s okay,” Eloisa assured him. “It does seem like a little overkill.”

Relief flooded his face. “It’s an equality thing if you think about it. That’s just Mr. Fring’s way. He wants everyone to understand as much of the business as possible.”

“Right.” She picked at a spot on the table. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, since high school. I worked my way up to Assistant Manager. I started taking night classes at CNM so I can get my business degree. Mr. Fring’s really been encouraging about that…”

She nodded, wondering if everyone else was this enamored with their boss. Her impression had been that he was restrained, even a little uptight. Other than that, he was a big question mark. Admittedly, though, everyone seemed fairly happy, or at least not as sour as a lot of fast-food employees that she had come across.

“… I’ll just get these videos started.”

They settled back in their chairs and Lyle pressed play.

~

“Well,” she said, looking at her watch as though she hadn’t been checking it every five minutes for the last two hours. “This seems like a good place to break for lunch, no?”

Lyle glanced at the clock hanging about the sink. “Oh, yeah, wow! The time sure flies, doesn’t it?”

“Mhm,” she agreed, getting out of her chair and edging toward the refrigerator. More than anything she wanted to eat her leftovers in peace and maybe take a nap in her car. “Thank you so much for sharing all of your… wisdom this morning.” Feeling that might have been too insincere, she added, “Really. They’re lucky to have you, Lyle.”

“Thanks, Eloisa. You know, I think you’re going to be a great addition here.”

Even though the morning had started on a weird footing, she was almost cheerful as she walked into the dining area.

“No, sir, what you’re doing is _very_ appreciated by the department…”

Eloisa froze. There was Nate, fully uniformed, walking in with Mr. Fring. His face broke into a grin when he saw her, and he waved. Unthinking, she returned the gesture. Why was he here and why did he seem so friendly with her new boss?

“Ah, Miss Samuels, I trust you’re settling in?” Mr. Fring, for she couldn’t think of him as anything but, asked.

“Yes,” she answered, zoning back in. “You were right about Lyle. He’s very knowledgeable.”

“Hey, El,” Nate said. “Mr. Fring stopped by the station this morning, and I figured I’d pop in and see how you were doing on your first day.” This explained why they were together. She forgot how much philanthropic work Fring was known for in the community. He was very close with the police and fire departments. “Thought we could have lunch or something?”

“Sure. I was just about to eat anyway.” She held up the Tupperware with last night’s dinner. “Unless you need me to stay, sir?”

“No, no, of course not. Officer Osborn, could I offer you lunch on the house?”

“Well…” Nate drew out the word like he was hesitant, but Eloisa knew he would accept. He had always loved the benefits that came with being a cop. “I’d be a fool to turn it down. Best chicken in Albuquerque.”

He gave instructions to the employee at the register and then turned back to them. “Enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you, sir,” Eloisa and Nate said in unison. He gave them both a nod and disappeared into the kitchen.

Hopes of a quiet lunch dashed, she waited impatiently as Nate ordered. The service, she noted with relief, was at least quick.

“Why are you really here?” she asked, opening the passenger door to his cruiser.

“I just wanted to make sure you were okay,” he said when they were safely out of hearing distance. “Last night was kind of intense.”

“No shit.” You don’t even know the half of it, she almost said.

He drove them to an overlook where they had a beautiful view of the city. They rolled down the windows to air out the overwhelming smell of fried food, the sweltering afternoon heat fighting against the frigid air conditioning in Nate’s car.

“How are you really doing?” he pressed as he jammed fries into his mouth. “You didn’t text me back or answer any of my messages this morning.”

“Shitty, Nate.” She reached over and stole a fry from the container. “What do you think?” They ate for a while, listening to the random bursts of chatter on the scanner before Eloisa threw her fork down and turned to him. “I’m gonna ask you something and I need you to be straight with me.”

He tensed then began switching off everything in his car. “Okay.”

“What do you think he’s going to have me doing?” She had been making herself sick thinking of the possibilities.

He rested his elbow on the window and looked out over the landscape. “Dealing, probably.”

It was the answer she had expected, but the less blind she went in, the better. “Dealing what though? What did I sign myself up for here?”

He double-checked to make sure his car radio was off. “Meth,” he said in a low voice.

“Meth?” she repeated in an incredulous whisper. She went over a mental checklist of what she knew about meth which wasn’t much except that it was highly addictive. It was a big, scary unknown. “Jesus. And you can’t tell me anything else about these guys? Like who the hell they are?”

“They’re cartel and that’s all I know. Seriously,” he said when she cut him a look. “They pay me to know nothing, remember?”

She sighed, unable to shake the feeling that she was drowning with no hope of land or rescue in sight. “Right.”

“Hey, you know if you ever need something you can call me, right? I know that I royally fucked things up between us and you don’t have any reason to trust me,” he inhaled and exhaled loudly, “but I mean it. I won’t ask questions. I’m just worried about you.” She was about to reply, but he turned the scanner back on, effectively ending the conversation. “We should get you back.”

~

When she had still had not heard from Nacho toward the end of the week, Eloisa was afraid she was going to lose her mind.

During the day, she could never relax, always unsure if or when he would show up. On Tuesday night, she burnt dinner. Hazel had been unfazed, especially when they ordered pizza. On Wednesday night, she was such a wreck that she jumped any time someone talked to her when her back was turned. The broken glass casualty had been much higher than normal by the end of that particular bar shift. Sleep, which had been elusive in the days since her father’s arrest, had almost completely abandoned her.

So, when she woke up on Thursday, bleary-eyed, and on the verge of a nervous breakdown, it was with a determination that if he wasn’t going to come to her, she would have to find him.

All she had were two things to go on: his name and that his dad owned an upholstery business. The bit about his dad could have been a lie, but something told her that he had been telling the truth.

Using her work computer to run a search felt wrong, but, she reasoned, it was faster than using a phone book. She printed the information en masse and tucked it into her messenger bag just as the day manager poked her head in to say hello.

On her lunch break, she smuggled the printed pages to her car and drove to a nearby park. She picked at a sandwich and drank coffee while flipping through, startled by the overwhelming number of entries. It turned out there were a lot of different types of upholstery and a lot of places that offered that particular service. Remembering Nacho’s beautiful old coupé, she guessed automotive which narrowed down her search considerably.

Adopting a gravelly voice and using Spanish (another tidbit she’d remembered), she called several of them under the guise of inquiring about different options for her car. By the time her break was over, she had narrowed her odds down to two: A-Z and Cibola. The first place was closer to work so she figured she would swing by after her shift and see what happened.

The rest of the day went by in a numbered blur, time moving slower with every second that her eagerness increased. By the time she poked her head into Mr. Fring’s office to announce that she was leaving, she was practically vibrating with it. As she drove, a small voice in her head warned her that this was a bad idea. She turned the music up louder to drown it out.

She took off her sunglasses as she stepped into the shop, glad that it wasn’t busy as the parking lot would have led her to believe. From somewhere in the back she could hear the whir of sewing machines and loud laughter.

“Hola,” an older man with both a kind smile and eyes greeted. Manuel, the name stitched on his shirt read. “¿Puedo ayudarte?”

“Perdón por molestarte,” she said in a shy tone as she fidgeted with the glasses in her hand, a play directly out of Starr’s handbook. “¿Me preguntaba si Ignacio estaba aquí?”

He took in her appearance, a twinkle in his eye as he did so. “¿Eres amiga suyo?”

“Uh…” She smiled shyly. Starr truly would have been proud, though Eloisa felt silly. “Algo como eso.”

“Ah.” He held up a finger and winked at her as though he understood. “¡Ignacio!” he called. “¡Hay alguien que quiere verte!”

They didn’t have to wait long before he appeared in the doorway that led from the front to the workshop. If he was surprised to see her there, he didn’t show it as he regarded her coolly. “Gracias, Papa. Lo tengo.”

Manuel clapped a hand on his son’s shoulder and leaned in to whisper something that made Nacho smile good-naturedly though it did not reach his eyes. “Mucho gusto,” he said, offering Eloisa a wave.

She returned the gesture. “También.”

When they were alone, Nacho came around the counter and took her elbow in one hand, clamping down on her wrist in a vice-like grip with the other. He led her to the front door and pushed it open with his hip, exposing them both into the bright afternoon sunlight. When they were a good distance from the building, hidden behind her car, he released her with a shove.

“What are you doing?” he demanded.

“You-” she began. It was funny how much more bravado she seemed to possess when she played through these scenarios in her head. However, the fantasy version of Nacho didn’t seem quite as intimidating as the one glaring down at her with his arms crossed in front of his chest. “You said you thought you had a job for me and-”

“And you thought you’d find me and do what?” He raised an eyebrow at her. “Intimidate it out of me? Because if that was your plan, it’s stupid.”

“Do I look like I came to intimidate anyone?” she asked, waving a hand to showcase her work attire. “All I want is to figure out what is going on.” When his displeased expression didn’t change, she continued. “Look, I _know_ this is stupid, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

He looked up as though asking God to grant him patience. “You should have waited like I told you to.”

“Waited until _when_ though?" Breathing became hard like someone was sitting on her chest Why? Why had she done this? Had she really thought, even ten minutes ago, that this had been a good idea? "I’m scared, okay?” she admitted, grimacing as though it pained her to say it aloud. “I have no idea what the hell I’m doing. I just- I thought that if I found you, and, yeah, maybe made you freak a little bit, the same way you did me then I’d feel better. But I don’t, okay? I just feel like an idiot.”

His shoulders relaxed just the slightest bit, but her traitor brain was hyper-aware of his movement and noticed the change. The tightness in her chest eased.

“Don’t do anything like this again. Ever. ¿Comprendes?”

Eloisa gave him a double thumbs up and immediately wished that she could sink into the ground. “Yeah, sure,” she agreed. “Copy that.” Her face burned with embarrassment when his brow furrowed.

He looked at her car and something like revulsion crossed his features. It wasn’t hard to see why. The beat-up Taurus she was driving was on its last legs of life. “This is your ride?”

“Yes?”

“If you wanna scrap it, let me know. I could probably get you a pretty good deal.”

She snorted and gave the car an affectionate pat. “Thanks, but pass.”

“You’re sure you want to do this?” he asked, and she knew he didn’t mean driving her questionable car. “You do understand what you’re getting into, right?”

“No,” she answered honestly. She lowered her voice, checking over her shoulder to confirm no one was there. “But it’s not like I just have a cool five million laying around that I can just give you so you’ll go away or I would. In a heartbeat.” She met Nacho’s gaze with resolve. “If I didn’t, what would happen?” He didn’t reply. His eyes only burned into hers and the answer was clear: nothing good. “Then I don’t have a choice.”

“Tomorrow night,” he said eventually. And there it was, the tangibility she’d longed for.

She opened her car door and stopped, turning around to face him again. It was pressing her luck to ask, but she had to know. Somehow, too, she felt safer with the car door between them. “Hey, what did he say?”

“What?”

“Your dad- what did he say?”

Nacho stared at her, scratched his eyebrow with a thumb as he contemplated whether or not to tell her. Eventually, he gave a soft snort. “He said to be nice to you because you’re pretty.”

For some reason, the compliment made her eyes sting. “Oh. That’s…” She swallowed the lump in her throat. “He seems really nice.”

He laughed though there was nothing funny about the situation. “I told you- you two would get along.” It was the first time that either of them had truly acknowledged their previous encounter. “How’d you find me?” he asked with what might have been a hint of begrudging respect.

“You gave me a pretty good starting point,” she said softly and shrugged one shoulder. “Anyone could have done it.”

“Maybe.” Nacho squinted against the late afternoon sunlight, studying her. He didn’t sound like he believed her. “See you tomorrow, Lou.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, Eloisa, my sweet, idiot baby angel. What are you doing, girlfriend? And what, exactly, does Nacho have planned for her?
> 
> Thank you for reading, and special thanks to anyone who's left a comment or kudos! They're all very much appreciated.
> 
> **Translations:**
> 
> ¿Puedo ayudarte? - Can I help you?
> 
> Perdón por molestarte. ¿Me preguntaba si Ignacio estaba aquí? - Sorry to bother you. I was wondering if Ignacio is here?
> 
> ¿Eres amiga suyo? - Are you a friend of his?
> 
> Algo como eso. - Something like that.
> 
> ¡Hay alguien que quiere verte! - There's someone here for you!
> 
> Lo tengo. - I've got it.
> 
> Mucho gusto. - Nice to meet you.
> 
> También. - You too.


	7. Seven

True to his word, Nacho was sitting on the stoop when she got back to her house the next evening.

Eloisa had been on edge all day. If she’d thought that knowing when he was going to show up would alleviate her stress, she was wrong. The anticipation was almost worse somehow. Unable to sit still after work, and with no Hazel to distract her, she did the only thing she knew would truly distract her and had gone for a run.

“Hey,” she greeted as she jogged up the steps, flushed and out of breath.

“You should change your lock,” he said, skipping niceties and watching her fumble with her house key. “It would take me five seconds to break into this place.”

This was not the first time she had been given this advice, but she made a mental note to check the prices of locks as she pushed open the door. He followed her inside.

“Please don’t?”

“Let me know how that works out when you get robbed.”

“Technically,” she corrected, bending down to tear off her knee brace, “it would be burglary, but, no one’s broken in yet.”

“That you know of.”

They stared at each other, the words causing her skin to break out in goosebumps. Had that been a confession? She couldn’t bring herself to ask. This was not, she reminded herself, a social call. “What should I wear?”

He sat on the couch, content to make himself at home while he waited. “Whatever.”

With no idea what they were about to go do, she took a quick shower and threw on a pair of dark jeans and a plain olive-green t-shirt. As she stomped down the stairs, she re-tamed her hair into a braid.

Nacho, impeccably dressed as always in a short-sleeve button-up and nice jeans, gave her a once over. When he said nothing, she assumed she passed muster. He stood up and walked to the door, holding it open for her. “Let’s go.”

“Am I allowed to ask where we’re going?” she asked. Her messenger bag smacked against her side as she followed him down the street to where he’d parked the van.

He opened the passenger door for her. “If I said no, would that stop you?”

“Probably not.”

He didn’t answer when he got in or even when he started driving. He didn’t answer for so long that she wondered if that was going to be the extent of their conversation. Resigning herself to the idea, she watched the cars around them as they turned onto southbound I-25. They passed by so many different people: single, friends, families, and everything in between, all of them driving so obliviously. She longed to be one of them.

“Have you heard of The Green Room?”

Nate had mentioned it a couple of times when he’d started working with her dad in the South Valley patrol area. “The hookah place?” she asked, still half-distracted by people watching. “Yeah, sure, it’s supposed to be really sketchy th- oh.”

She couldn’t even be surprised anymore. Every day seemed to bring new information or cast something into a new light. She wondered when that would stop and was wearied by the conclusion that it would probably be never.

“Here’s the deal, Nancy Drew: you’re gonna be my eyes in that place.”

“Why?” she asked, louder than she’d meant to as she turned toward him, eyebrows nearly disappearing into her hairline.

“Don’t worry about it.” His eyes flicked briefly to her. “You’re slinging for Matty, but you work for me. Got it? If anything seems off, I want to know about it.”

“Sure, but what do you mean by-”

He turned the van sharply into the parking lot of a strip mall. “No more questions.”

Eloisa pressed her lips together. There were still about a thousand questions she wanted answers to but was distracted as Nacho exited without a word. She nearly fell out of the van trying to keep up with him.

The shop was tucked into a corner of the strip, decorated with a tacky white sign above with _The Green Room_ emblazoned in smoky black and white lettering, a generic-looking hookah next to it. The neon sign in the otherwise scrubbed out window read “OPEN” in bright red and blue lights.

“This is your first mistake,” she said, scrutinizing it with a critical eye. “This is a crappy location for a hookah lounge.”

“Oh yeah?” Nacho asked, half-exasperated, half-curious. “Where would you have put it then?”

She tilted her head. “Maybe downtown or near the University. College kids love this kind of crap. I mean, even somewhere by the base would get so much more business.”

He shook his head. “Harder to pay off the cops. Plus, that’s not really our territory.”

“Yeah, but this,” she waved a hand at the sign, “is just… if I was a cop, I’d be all over this place. It looks sketchy as hell.”

“That’s what we pay your boyfriend for.”

It was a simple statement, but it hung heavily between them.

“Nate’s not my boyfriend,” she objected, unsure why his comment annoyed her so much. Whatever had happened between them before was done and had been the moment Nacho had gotten out of the van.

“I don’t think he knows that,” was all he said before he pushed the door open.

She strode past him, keeping her head high. As she did, she caught a faint whiff of his cologne that made her heart race. _Stop it_ , she told herself, digging her nails into her palm. _Get over it._ She concentrated on her surroundings instead.

The inside was lit by dim overheads and funky green bulbs. There were several dark circular tables, each set up in the middle of its own curved booth bedecked in maroon velvet. Ludacris’s _Word of Mouf_ album played over the speakers, low but still audible. Toward the back, there was a crescent-shaped glass counter, the walls on either side lined with hookahs. In the display case were different types of shisha as well as several glass pipes.

Only one booth was occupied, by a group of guys who were probably in their early twenties. Smoke wafted through the air as one took a pull from the hose and blew into the air at the same time that Eloisa took a deep breath. She inhaled the cloyingly sweet smell of apple and coughed.

“Come on,” Nacho said, touching her elbow and steering her toward the back of the lounge.

A brunette sitting on a stool behind the counter welcomed him. “Hey, Nacho.” She sounded like her mind was somewhere else entirely.

Eloisa had gone through a phase where she had been temporarily obsessed with the case of Charles Manson and his “family”. This woman reminded her of one of those girls with her long middle-parted hair and wide, glassy brown eyes. The only thing that kept her in the present was the paisley tube top dress she was wearing.

“Hi, Jenna.” He flashed a small smile. “Is Matty here?”

“Sure, he’s in the back. He’s waiting for y’all.”

“Damn, it’s about time!” a man exclaimed as they walked through the hanging beads dividing the front of the shop from the back.

Even the back was not just an office. There was a wall of cubbies that reminded her of elementary school, but each was labeled with different names of shisha. There was a small section for coals and further back she could see a separate room full of boxes for different hookahs, pipes, and nozzles. There was a desk with a fairly new computer, but in the middle of the room were two leather couches around a coffee table. A hookah was set up in the middle, but there were ashtrays and discarded baggies around the room. Eloisa tried hard to not think about what the tiny plastic bags had once contained.

“Wassup, Holmes?” He caught sight of Eloisa and nodded toward her. “This your new find?” He was one of the whitest people that she had ever seen, but he was decked out in an expensive t-shirt and baggy pants. His blonde hair was cropped close to his head and when he grinned at them, his teeth shone with a silver and diamond grill. He extended a hand to Nacho, who took it and allowed himself to be pulled forward for a backslap.

“Yeah. This is Lou,” said Nacho. “Lou, this is Matty.”

His eyes scanned her, appraising her in the same way he might a pimped-out ride or a wad of cash. “Wassup, chica?”

“Hey,” she said slowly before turning to Nacho. “¿Este tipo es de verdad? ¿Estás jugando conmigo? Puedo ver sus chonies.” It was a dumb complaint, but this guy had to have been her age or older and his pants were lower than even her brother dared to wear.

The corners of his lips twitched. “No. El es de confianza.”

“Everything cool?” Matty asked, rubbing his hands together. A slight frown belied his cool demeanor.

"Yeah,” Nacho answered. “We’re cool.”

“Tight. You can chill out front with Jenna for a few,” he instructed. “She’ll show you what’s up.”

She looked to Nacho for guidance, but he only motioned toward the beads in clear dismissal. Again, Eloisa had so many questions and a sinking feeling in her stomach as she thrust through to the front.

“Uh… hey,” she said to Jenna, who was nodding along as “Area Codes” started to play. “I guess you’re supposed to train me or whatever?”

“Hi!” Her face lit up. “You’re the new girl Matty was talking about. I’m Jenna. But duh.” She laughed. “I guess you knew that. What’s your name?”

Following Nacho’s lead, she answered, “Lou.”

“Lou,” she said. “That’s a dope nickname ‘cause it’s like a dude’s name, right?”

“Uh… yep.” When Jenna didn’t move, Eloisa perched on the other stool. “Do you like it here?”

“Oh, for sure. Matty’s real cool about, like, whatever and it’s real easy work. I’ll show you how to clean everything when these guys are done and then we can practice setting up.” Jenna reached down the front of her dress and produced a little green pill. “Hey, do you want one? It’s fine!” she insisted as Eloisa eyed it warily. “Matty doesn’t care.”

“Oh, uh, no, thanks?” she replied. “It’s not really my thing.”

The last thing she probably needed was more drugs. Eloisa was so horrified by the casualness of it that all she could do was look on.

Jenna shrugged and popped it in her mouth. “Do you want a bump instead?”

Before she could decline, the door opened, and a man entered. He was practically swimming in his clothes, but he was so skinny that most things must have appeared that way on him. He approached the counter, eyes darting between the two of them.

“She’s cool,” Jenna assured him.

“A’ight.” His tongue ran over cracked lips. “Cotton Candy Fantasy- two of ‘em, please.”

Jenna swayed with the music as she reached under the counter and produced two black shisha bags. “It’s eighty.”

He fished four twenties out of his back pocket and slid them across the glass. Eloisa watched as Jenna passed him the bags. He nodded at them both before disappearing.

“Was that- uh-” she stumbled over her words, unsure if she could bring herself to say the word meth out loud. She glanced again at the door, fingers picking at a loose thread on the bottom of her shirt.

“Oh, shit. Duh.” Jenna smacked her forehead and ducked under the counter. She reemerged with a plastic container full of black shisha bags all with COTTON CANDY FANTASY printed labels. “So,” she said, glancing at the guys in the booth and lowering her voice. “We can _only_ sell this if they ask for it. And, like, you gotta be careful, right? People out here are quick to rob you, so you only give them the bags when you get the money.”

“And it’s forty for a bag?”

Jenna beamed at her, tucking the bin away again. “Damn, you’re all smart, huh?”

“Just a quick learner.” And not on drugs, she thought.

From there, Jenna explained the mechanics of the register. “The receipts and regular money all goes up top and then the Cotton Candy stuff goes under here.” She pressed a button and lifted the drawer to reveal a small stack of cash, depositing the eighty on top of it. “Matty comes in a couple of times a week to drop new stuff and to collect. We get a cut, obviously, and I think that’s it? Oh, like, we have to stay late on drop nights to repackage. There’s a heat machine in the back, but it’s real easy to use.”

The information should have been easy to digest, for nothing about this seemed hard, but it threatened to overwhelm her anyway. She looked back at the beads, wishing Matty and Nacho would hurry up with whatever they were talking about. Unless she was supposed to stay here the whole night? She hadn’t prepared for that, mentally or otherwise. And if that were the case, would Nacho stick around the entire time? And what if they were back there doing drugs? Did she want to get a ride home with Nacho after that?

Sensing that an anxiety spiral was imminent, she dug her fingernails into her palm again. “Is it cool if I run out for a smoke break?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jenna said, patting her arm. “Go for it.”

Eloisa practically burst out of the door. Behind her, the sun dipped below the mountains casting everything in dusty pinks and lilacs as night approached. The streetlights began to turn on, illuminating the few cars that were in the lot. She fished the pack of cigarettes out of the bottom of her bag and plopped down on the curb with her back facing the shop. As she shook one out, she lamented that she would have to buy a new pack soon.

“Can I bum one?” someone asked as she lit the stick and inhaled. She glanced up to see the guy from earlier. He maintained a respectful distance but was looking at her cigarette with such longing that it made her want to cry.

“Sure.” She shook out her last one and reached out to hand both it and the lighter to him before tucking the empty pack bag into her bag.

“Thanks,” he said, full of sincere gratitude as he tossed the lighter back. She caught it and slipped it into her back pocket. He rubbed his nose with the back of his hand. “Ain’t seen you in here before.”

“Just started.”

They observed one another as they continued smoking. Even in the fading light, she could see that his skin was sallow, and his face looked pimpled. As he brought the cigarette to his mouth, his hands were shaking. He must not have taken anything yet, though she wouldn’t even know what to look for if he had.

“Hey,” a second voice, this one familiar, said from behind them. She turned around to see Nacho leaning against the door. “Come back inside.”

She stubbed out her cigarette, the taste of her final drag bitter in her mouth. With a wave at the guy, she went back in. She hoped she never saw him again.

“It’s a bad idea to make friends with skells,” Nacho warned.

“What’s a skell?”

“Junkies, tweakers, basically people like that guy out there. Get too friendly with them and they think they can ask for freebies. And you look like an easy target.”

“Thanks for the confidence,” she replied dryly, batting away the beads.

Matty was sitting on the couch with the hookah lit. When they had each taken a seat on one end of the couch opposite him, he blew an obnoxious sweet-smelling cloud in their direction. He slid a piece of paper across the table to her. It was a schedule for the rest of the month. Her name was on every night shift except for Sunday and Tuesday, making her breathe a sigh of relief; her name and Jenna’s were together on Friday and Saturday.

“I get nights off?” The words were out of her mouth before she had time to think about them.

Matty laughed. “You think imma make you work every night, baby girl? Naw. This ain’t that kind of gig, you know what I’m saying?”

She hoped she did not. It had been a fear of hers. Then something occurred to her that upset her in a way she had not expected.

“I, uh- shit,” she mumbled under her breath. “I’m going to need a week before I can start. At least.” Two would have been better, more professional, but this was already asking a lot. She could tell by the way Nacho’s jaw tightened.

“Why?” he asked sharply.

“I’m gonna have to give my notice at my other job- the one at the bar? A week, I swear.” She pleaded with her eyes, afraid to say more and jinx it.

He sighed. “Matty, is that cool with you?”

“Sure, man. Whatever’s clever.”

“Thank you.”

“Uh-huh.” Matty exhaled a plume of smoke through his nostrils like a dragon about to breath flames. “Thank you,” he mimicked in a high-pitched voice then leaned back and laughed. “Nacho, where did you find this chick? She’s a trip, man.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Translations:**
> 
> ¿Este tipo es de verdad? ¿Estás jugando conmigo? Puedo ver sus chonies*. - Is this guy for real? Are you kidding me? I can see his underwear.
> 
> El es de confianza. - He's legit.
> 
> *the actual word would be calzones but am from NM, can confirm chonies would likely be used.


End file.
